


Firing On All Six

by Resistance



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys have a mystery to solve and it's not likely to end well.</p><p>NASCAR boys in fedoras and suits. What more do you need?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Has anyone heard from Edwards this week?”

There was a small murmur from the casual gathering in the warehouse, but no one spoke up. Truth was, no one had heard from the man in more than a week, but letting their boss know that was likely to result in more trouble for him than no answer would. Overall, Carl was well liked and no one particularly wanted to see him gunned down. The idea that he’d run off with the profits from his last run hung low over the crowd.

“That place down on 15th? Did they get what they ordered?”

One of the crowd spoke up, “Never got no complaints, Mr H.” He’d been looking over the books and he’d been around so long that whatever he said went without question, second to their boss. That seemed to placate the man and he flicked a few ashes from the end of his cigar before returning to his office and shutting the door with a loud _slam_ , in case they wondered if he was pleased with their lack of knowledge.

“Is that really true, Jeff?” Blue eyes peaked out from under the light gray fedora.

“No. He never got there. That was his last stop.”

“He still blowin’ ‘round in that Ford breezer? That’s just askin’ for someone to hit him.”

“Nah, he sold that a couple months back, it was a flivver.”

He shook his head, “I coulda told him that.”

“We all told him that. Nothin’ good came from Ford since the ‘18 Model T.”

Kasey shook his head and fought a small smile, but didn’t comment. Being on the younger side of the assembled crowd, it wouldn’t do him well to point out that he was still in grade school, not driving , when that particular car hit the streets.

Jeff continued without noticing, “He didn’t get much for it, but it was drawin’ too many eyes. Not sure what he’s drivin’ now, but he had boss’ car and _that’s_ a Lincoln. Only engine that can outrun the fuzz every time.”

Another voice added to the conversation, “Says you.”

Jeff’s eyes snapped up from the books, and his hand rested lightly on the tommy gun next to him, “Mind your own potatoes, Kyle, no one wants to hear your bushwa.”

“You’re teachin’ the kid badly. Someone’s gotta step in. The Ford’s a fine automobile.”

Kasey rolled his eyes, “First, I’m no _kid_ and second, I wouldn’t drive a tin Lizzie if you gave it to me for nothin’, you think onna those can outrun the heat? A four?! I second what Jeff said, you’ve got potatoes that need mindin’.”

Kyle flipped open his newspaper, “Dry up, _kid_.” He turned his back to the both of them, pretending to read articles he’d already read earlier.

Jeff laughed, “He don’t know from nothin’ on that. Don’t listen to him.”

“Oh, I know.”

The approving nod Kasey got from him made him smile. Kasey had no designs on the other man, but knowing his high position in the organization it was much more important to have his approval than another of the rum runners hanging around waiting on the next shipment.

After a long silence, Kasey spoke up, “You think someone gave him a one-way ride? How much was he carryin’?”

Jeff frowned, looking up at him, “Twenty-four cases of real brown. That’s a lotta jack if he delivered it all.”

Kasey did the math in his head and came to the same conclusion that everyone else in the room already had. Twenty-four cases at seventy-five dollars a case meant that Carl had eighteen hundred dollars in his pocket and that was a lot of dough to just hand over without a cut. He’d get paid, of course, but it wouldn’t be nearly two thousand dollars, that’s for sure. He could put a down payment on his own Lincoln with that kind of money.

“You don’t think….” Kasey tried to think the best of people. They were all just there to make a living, the best way they could. They were only criminals because that new law made them that, not because they were bad people.

“Two options. He took the dough and beat it, or someone’s got him in the bag. And to be honest, I don’t know which one I’d rather it be.”

Kasey sighed, he understood what Jeff meant. If he took the money, the boss would send someone after him and he’d either be shot for it or he’d live his life on the run. If he’d been kidnapped, they’d probably find his body in a field somewhere outside the city. The money was gone either way and that meant the boss would not be happy. Everyone would have to dot their I’s and cross their T’s real careful for a while.

An hour didn’t pass before the office door opened and an angry voice bellowed, “GORDON!”

Jeff sighed, but stood up right away, “If you’re a church-goer, Kasey, pray for Edwards, he’s gonna need it either way.” He made his way up to the office and closed the door behind him. “Sir?”

“How are things going down there with the runners?”

“Hittin’ on all six, sir.”

“What about that new kid?”

“Kahne?”

“No, the one that came over from Gibbs' organization.”

Jeff frowned, “ _Oh_ , Busch. He’s---“

“I’m told he used to run ‘shine for him.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I figured he’d run the small stuff. That’s all I’d give him. He talks a big game, but I don’t think he’s ready to run with the big boys. Not yet anyway. ‘Sides, I think he likes runnin’ the backwoods bathtub circuit. He can be pure Chicago with that crowd, they don’t know what four-flusher he is drivin’ around in his piece of junk Ford.”

“Fine, keep him on that run, he brings in a few C a week. What about Edwards?”

“I can’t image he went on the lamb, sir, that just ain’t like him.”

“I didn’t think so either, but I know Gibbs has been hurting lately. He’s in desperate need of good drivers and he has the cash to throw around. He’d target someone that wants the attention and needs the jack. You have to admit Edwards fits that bill.”

“Yes, sir, but---“

“Find out.”

“Yes, sir.” He waited for a sign that he was dismissed before heading back down to the warehouse floor. He took a long look around at the crew kicked back in the makeshift waiting room, most of them reading the paper or cleaning their rods. He knew who he had to send on this assignment, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. Despite the amount of guys in the room, only a few were talented enough to drive the delivery route and not get caught or crash. The rest were just support staff, loaders or mechanics.

“Junior?” Jeff sat down beside one of the best known of their crew.

“Yeah?” The man they called Junior glanced up from the newspaper he’d borrowed from Kyle only moments before. His father had been one of the best rum runners in the history of the profession until he was killed on a run a few years back. Junior had inherited not only his gig, but his reputation of getting the job done with style. Though it wasn’t all handed down, Jeff well knew, Junior had earned his spot on the Bureau’s Most Wanted list.

“You hear what happened with Edwards?” Gossip ran faster around the boys than it did in a country beauty parlor, so he wasn’t going to explain something the other man already knew.

“Course. Did he run?”

Jeff shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. The boss needs to know.”

“And you want me to find out.”

“Can you?”

“Course I can.” He opened the newspaper again, turning his attention back to it.

“Take Kahne with you, he needs to learn the ropes.”

Junior sighed at that, “Alright. Long as he can hold his own.”

“I _can_.” Kasey had heard his name and made his way closer to the two of them.

Junior snorted a laugh, “You’re gonna prove it. I know a dame Edwards fancied, we’ll start with her. You ready to roll out?” He stood, tossing the newspaper in Kyle’s direction, pretending not to notice when it hit the floor at his feet.

Kasey nodded, buttoning his jacket loosely over his shoulder holster, “You don’t figure he’s laying low at some dame’s place. He never came across as that much of a fool.”

He chuckled, “Edwards is no cake-eater, but he _is_ dumb enough to drop somethin’ with her before he split, _if_ he split. No doll can resist talkin’ ‘bout her ice.”

They got into Junior’s Packard and Kasey did all he could not to admire the automobile. He had never felt shame for the Chevrolet he drove, mainly because he owned his own set of wheels and that was more than most of the guys in his neighborhood growing up. But this car? This car was last year’s model and still had a double six and could hit speeds nearly double what any Bull could be driving. This is what Kasey aspired to. He’d have to get more renown in the organization before he was taking down this kind of dough, but someday… someday he would. He knew that much.

“You think he split?” Junior didn’t take his eyes off the road.

Kasey thought for a moment. He didn’t expect him to ask his opinion. In fact he hadn’t expected that he would speak at all on this trip. He was there to hold the big guns and look like he knew how to use them. But now that he was being asked, he wanted to make sure what he said was the truth. He looked over to Junior. “No.”

The word hung in the air for a long moment before Junior nodded, “Me either. Which probably means he’s kaput.”

Kasey sighed, but didn’t reply. What was there to say to that? It was probably true. He tried to remember what Edwards had been like before he left that morning. Kasey had helped him load up the boss’ car. The guys had been talking about a huge raid on a speakeasy on North Street last night. He couldn’t remember if Carl had joined in or not, he had been so surprised that a group of dames had really broken all those bottles on their own. ‘The Women’s Christian Temperance Union’ they’d called themselves, but attacking a poor businessman’s only source of income didn’t seem very Christian to him.

When the car came to a stop, Kasey hesitated. The house was outside the city, white picket fence with a small flowerbed beside the door. It didn’t seem right to bring his rod into a place like this. Besides, even if he had to, he wasn’t positive he _could_ shoot a lady. Junior’s chuckle startled him.

“We’re just here to talk to her.” He got out and headed for the door with a confident swagger that Kasey wished he had. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away and followed after him. He nearly walked into Junior’s back before he realized he’d stopped just short of the porch. It was then he caught sight of the sign that had been nailed to the wall beside the door.

“She’s a _doctor_?” Kasey furrowed his brows. He’d never seen a lady doctor, though he had read about them in the newspaper once or twice, but it was never in a positive way. Mostly writers pointing out how they were trying to be men and would probably end up killing someone with their play-acting medicine. He hadn’t really thought much about it, he didn’t figure it _really_ happened, just something to write about.

“That’s news to me, too.” Junior stepped up to the door and raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the door swung open.

The woman that stepped into the doorway wasn’t anything like either of them were expecting. She was dressed neatly, but certainly not in this year’s fashion. Her clothes were muted tones and neat, inherently practical, nothing like the women that hung around the speaks and restaurants they frequented. She had a hand on her hip, but a slight smile played across her lips, “I suspect you’re here about Carl. Come in.” She stepped aside and gestured they enter.

Junior glanced back at Kasey and they both shrugged and stepped into her parlor. Again, the best word that could be used to describe it was ‘practical’. She kept a nice house, which was something Kasey remembered reading that a professional woman would not do. Through the next door, Kasey could spot a padded table that he assumed was for examining patients and it made him shudder a little, the idea of a woman doctor checking him out. And that was not to mention the array of instruments that were neatly lined up on the counters beside the table, the use of which Kasey could only guess at.

“How’d you know we were lookin’ for him?” Junior asked, snapping Kasey back to the task at hand.

“I hardly think you are here for an examination. You don’t look like my usual patients.” She had both hands on her hips now and looked formidable.

“Where is he?” Kasey asked, making sure he didn’t sound as awed by her as he felt.

Kate scoffed, shaking her head, “I don’t know. I didn’t expect him today. He doesn’t tell me of his business ventures and I don’t tell him of my patients. We have most agreeable lunches together that way.” There was nothing suggestive in the way she said that and Kasey was ashamed that the first thoughts he had after hearing that wouldn’t be something he’d dare say in front of a lady.

“He drop off any presents?” Junior asked, glancing around.

“How is what my beau gives me as gifts any of your concern, Mr….?”

“Earnhardt. Dale Earnhardt. Forgive me for not introducing myself, Doctor.” He held his hand out to her and she shook it. “This is my associate, Kasey Kahne.” Kasey also shook her hand, but Junior kept talking. “It is none of our concern, of course. But we have certain business associates that will make it their concern, if a mystery isn’t cleared up for us.”

“And what mystery is that, Mr. Earnhardt?” She picked up a glass from the table beside the soft and sipped on what looked to be iced tea.

“It seems our Mr. Edwards is missing.”

Kate stilled suddenly, “Missing? What do you mean?”

“I mean that he was supposed to return to our office by a certain time after making a delivery and he has not as of yet arrived.” Junior was choosing his words very carefully and to Kasey it sounded strange.

She sighed, sitting on the sofa, “He isn’t here.”

“I know that. But was he?”

“No. I have not seen him since yesterday. If you get word from him, will you please tell me?”

“Will you do the same?” Junior asked, even if he already knew the answer.

“Of course.” She stood again, collecting herself and smoothing her skirts, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have a patient coming in a few minutes and I would like to be ready for her.”

Junior nodded, heading towards the door. He looked to Kasey, “We’ll have some boys drop by tomorrow if we ain’t heard nothin’. Just in case. And Doctor?” He paused, looking back at her.

“Yes, Mr Earnhardt?”

“They ain’t gonna be as nice and polite as we were.” He ushered Kasey out the door and closed it behind him. “She’s got secrets.”

Kasey paused around the passenger’s side of the door, “Doesn’t everyone?”


	2. Chapter 2

They rode all the way back to the warehouse in silence, but once they arrived and Junior had cut the engine, he didn’t get out of the car. “What’s your secret?”

Kasey blinked a few times, surprised that he would ask. But if anyone had the nerve to, it was Junior. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be my secret anymore.” He smiled a little and got out of the Packard. Truth was, he really didn’t have that kind of deep dark secret like he had implied, but maybe he just earned a little respect from Junior with the idea of it. Let him turn that over in his mind for a while.

He was so lost in his mental back-patting that he nearly ran right into Jeff, who had been standing in the doorway since they pulled up, “Anythin’?”

Kasey sighed and shook his head, “She knows somethin’, but she ain’t givin’ it up.”

Jeff grumbled, turning back into the warehouse, expecting Kasey to follow, “If she weren’t a dame, we’d give ‘er the business and that’d be that.”

‘D’ya know she’s a _doctor_?” Kasey asked, settling back in the seat he’d occupied earlier. He noticed that the newspaper was still on the floor, where Junior had thrown it, but Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

Jeff glanced up from the books, “The dame Edwards runs with?”

He nodded, “A lady doctor. I’m sure she has just lady patients. Who else would go there? She had a room with.... who-knows-its and a doctor table.”

Jeff chewed on the end of his pencil for a moment, his eyes going out of focus as he considered this new development. Things were starting to make a lot more sense to him. After a few moments, he looked back to Kasey, “She have an x-ray machine that you saw?”

Kasey wrinkled his nose. The ability had been around for a while now, but the idea of a photograph being taken of his insides disturbed him on a level he didn’t quite comprehend. They’d started using it at the shoe stores, to make sure all the toes fit in or somesuch, he’d read about it in the newspaper. Kasey wanted no part of that. “Not that I saw, but we didn’t get a tour.”

The only response Jeff gave was a ‘hmm’ sound as he turned his focus back on the columns of numbers in front of him without really giving them the attention they deserved. Five minutes passed in silence as this new thought settled in all the minds within hearing distance of the conversation.

“You don’t think....” Kasey didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. In fact, Jeff was thinking that very thing. They all were. Eighteen hundred dollars would be a great down-payment on an x-ray machine for the doctor’s at-home clinic, something that would no doubt help her a great deal, especially if she treated pregnant women. Not that the reasons behind it would matter to the boss. Edwards would be dead either way, but this made him seem almost noble. If that was really what he’d done. They still had to find him to solve that mystery.

BANG. Three of the guys had tommy guns trained on the door before anyone realized the sound was the door being slammed open and not a gunshot. Kyle burst through the door, clearly out of breath and not thinking of how foolish it was to make loud sudden noises around guys that fired guns as casually as they tied their shoes.

“The speak on 18th was just hit!” He announced, loud enough for everyone assembled to hear.

Jeff groaned, “ _Hit_ you said? Not raided?”

Kyle nodded quickly, already halfway to the stairs the lead up to the boss’ office, “Seven gorillas with convincers. Smashed up the place, broke every bottle in there, threw chairs ‘round. Shot up everythin’, the windows, mirrors, everythin’. But you ain’t never gonna believe who was leadin’ ‘em. Edwards.”

Jeff stood now, crossing the room to meet Kyle, but the other man didn’t stop, now halfway up the stairs. Jeff stopped at the bottom step, looking up at him. He wasn’t going to stop Kyle from being the bearer of bad news to the boss. “Scarin’ ‘em or did they plug anybody?”

“Don’t know. The fuzz was already there when I drove by. Some Joe Yale on the street told me ‘bout it.” Kyle knocked heavily on the Boss’ door and slipped into the office at the invitation.

Jeff looked back to Junior, “I was afraid of that.”

Junior nodded, looking grim, “And how. Next time we see him, six of his friends are gonna be carryin’ him by the handles.”

Kasey wanted to say something in Carl’s defence, but the evidence was clearly against him. Kyle may have been an idiot about cars, but he wouldn’t lie about something like this. There was nothing in it for him and the punishment was too severe to risk it for a little attention. Even for him. It was clear cut. Carl had jumped to another organization-- probably Gibbs-- and now he was leading a hit on his old boss. That kind of double-cross couldn’t ever be forgiven.

When the office door opened, nearly every eye in the place turned to meet it. The boss stepped out on the balcony, looking down over his men. For the most part, they weren’t violent guys, unless the situation called for it. They were a bunch of rum runners that liked the easy money of deliveries and the excitement of driving good cars fast and not getting caught. But there were some exceptions.

“Johnson.” The boss didn’t yell his name, but it wasn’t a question either.

Brown eyes slowly lifted up to meet his. Jimmie was a man of very few words, but he carried an air of being a threat everywhere he went. Some of that could have been imposed reputation, but the majority of it was earned. He was dangerous and he didn’t mind if everyone knew that. “Sir?” His voice was quiet, but it carried.

“You know what to do. Double the fee.” The boss’ voice was tight and barely contained the rage that must have been flying through his head at this insult. He turned back into his office without another word, not waiting for a reply, slamming the door so hard that it shook the walls.

All eyes shifted to Jimmie, but no one said a word. Giving a hatchet man a job was nothing new, but the idea that his target would be someone that they had once called friend was unsettling to say the least. If he minded his new assignment, Jimmie didn’t show it. He put down the newspaper and removed his revolver from his shoulder holster. Carefully and with practiced precision, he cleaned every inch of it, while everyone in the warehouse watched him like they’d never seen someone polish a heater.

Once he was finished and the gun had been reassembled and rehosltered, he stood up. He picked up his fedora from where it had been sitting on a crate beside him and placed it on his head, at an angle. It was only then that he seemed to notice that everyone was watching him. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. He paid little attention to most of the assembled crew, but his eyes did seek out another pair.

Junior hadn’t taken his eyes off Jimmie since he spoke and now their eyes met. In those couple seconds an entire conversation took place, made possible from years of working in close proximity. If either actually liked the other was often debated behind their backs. Some said they hated each other, but respected the skills. Others said perhaps they liked each other too much. No one would dare ask and neither man offered up anything.

Jimmie nodded and broke eye contact first, and settled his on another member of their number,  “Kid.”

It took Kasey an uncomfortably long moment to realize that Jimmie was talking to him, simply because in all the time he’d been with the organization, he’d never said more than a dozen words to him. “Yeah?”

“You’re driving.” He didn’t wait for a reply, but simply turned and walked out the door, leaving Kasey standing there, stunned and confused.

Junior broke the silence that hung in the air. “You want to take my car?”

Kasey glanced over to him, shaking his head, still trying to process what was happening. “No. I’m more comfortable drivin’ mine. But thank you.” He turned towards the door only to find Jeff leaning against the frame.

“Don’t feel bad for him. He made his choice--”

Kasey frowned, “It ain’t like he went stool pigeon.”

“Mighta been better for him if he had. Then he’d have the fuzz’s protection, but switchin’ rackets? That’s just gonna get him six feet down. Don’t get soft, Kahne.” There was a very slight edge of a threat in Jeff’s tone, a reminder of what would happen if he did anything to tip off Edwards.

He nodded, “Like you said, he made his choice.” Kasey moved past Jeff and out to the parking lot.

Jimmie was leaning against Kasey’s blue Chevrolet, casually. Kasey wondered how he could be so cool, knowing what he’d have to do if they found Edwards. He had been all their friend. But in the end, he knew Jeff was right. They had no choice in the matter because of what Carl had done. He’d forced them to do what they were going to do. That didn’t make Kasey feel any better.

He walked around to the driver’s side and was surprised to see Jimmie walking to the front of the engine block, willingly participating the complicated ritual to start the Chevrolet's temperamental engine. More than once, Kasey was just about give him a specific instruction, only to find Jimmie knew exactly what to do. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Jimmie could start a car, but Kasey knew he and his brother had jerry-rigged this engine a few times back in the day before he could afford to buy parts when they wore out. That’s why he never let anyone else drive his car, it had a mind of it’s own sometimes.

When the engine finally roared to life, Kasey did all he could to suppress his smile. Of course it was going to start. It always start. Right. He’d turn himself into the Bureau before he ever admit to someone like Jimmie that his car had a fifty-fifty shot of starting on the first try. Though looking over to him leaning back so casually in the passenger’s seat, he doubted that Jimmie would actually care. He never really seemed to get over-excited about anything.

“Where are we goin’?”

“Just drive.”

Kasey frowned, looking both ways down the street that bordered the warehouse. He shrugged and took a left. His car liked left turns better than right for some reason that he couldn’t figure out, no matter how many times he examined that axle. Someone had told him once that Chevrolets were like that, but he’d only owned one, so he couldn’t test the theory.

They drove in silence for a long uncomfortable moment before Jimmie spoke, “Take the next right.”

Kasey nodded and followed his directions, which included another three turns and deposited them in front of a nice looking office building. It certainly didn’t look like the kind of place that people like them would frequent. Their more than obvious holsters would stand out among the lawyers and accountants that usually worked in a place like this. Kasey parked in the street, but didn’t cut the engine. “Should I come with you?”

Jimmie seemed to think about that for a moment before he shook his head, “Keep the engine warm, I won’t be long.” He got out of the car without any indication of what he was going to be doing in the office building or why he didn’t want Kasey to join him.

He didn’t pause at the front desk, even as the man standing behind he called out to him. He ordered the elevator operator to take him to the sixth floor and refused to return his small talk. The moment the doors were open, he was through them and heading down the hallway.

“Excuse me! You can’t just go in there!” The secretary jumped up from her seat, but Jimmie ignored her as well.

The man behind the desk in the inner office didn’t even look surprised to see him, “I don’t know where he is.”

“We both know that’s not true, Fennig.” Jimmie didn’t raise his voice, his tone was deadly serious. He brushed his jacket open, to make sure the other man could see his revolver.

“John Roscoe doesn’t need to join us, Mr Johnson.” He tried not to look nervous, but his eyes kept flitting back to the gun.

“Then tell me what I want to know.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You knew to expect me.” Jimmie didn’t take his eyes off the other man as he drew his gun. But instead of shooting him, he took aim at a vase on a pedestal across the room. With one bullet, the expensive piece of china was nothing more than shards on the ground.

“He met with Joe Gibbs last week,” Fennig offered quickly, “Gibbs offered him a lot of dough, more than any man could turn down. That’s all I know. I swear on the holy mother.”

Jimmie reholstered his revolver, “If you hear from him--”

“I’ll let you know. I swear on--”

“Swear on your own life. That’s what’s hanging in the balance.” Jimmie didn’t say another word, just turned and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. Only when he was back in the passenger’s seat of Kasey’s car did he speak again, “Drive.”

Kasey obediently pulled back out onto the road, “Did he tell you anythin’?”

Jimmie watched the road out the windshield for a while before replying, “No. We knew he’d met with Gibbs and the jack was too tempting. That’s all he told me. Head back to the ‘house.”

Kasey gave him a surprised look, but didn’t question. Hatchet men were a different breed than the guys he usually hung out with. Rum runners and bootleggers were doing something illegal because the law was wrong. Hitmen were doing something illegal because something in their head was wrong. If he had to, in order to defend himself, Kasey knew he could shoot someone, but to seek out a person, to kill them for money. That he couldn’t do. All the same, he respected Jimmie’s talent for it. And feared him. A little.

Pulling into the parking lot of the warehouse, Kasey was about to curse that someone had parked in his spot until he noticed exactly what car that was. He hit the brakes hard in the middle of the lot and openly stared. Sure there were plenty of Fords around the lot, but this one.... Kasey knew that car. He looked over to Jimmie.

“He couldn’t be that....” Kasey trailed off.

“Yes, he could.”

Jimmie let himself out of the car, and started walking towards the front door. Kasey just stared after him. He had hoped he was wrong, but Jimmie proved he wasn’t. He’d recognized the car just as Kasey had.

It was Carl’s car.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kasey’s Chevrolet hated to go in reverse and it protested loudly when he tried to back it away from the spot that Carl’s Ford occupied. By the time he managed to find a spot to put his car and walked back to the door, Jimmie was long since gone and Jeff was blocking the doorway.

“He didn’t.....” Kasey couldn’t even get the whole sentence out. He had expected that being Jimmie’s driver would mean he’d see the hitman in action. But he didn’t think their target was going to deliver himself to the headquarters like he hadn’t done anything. That was suicide!

Jeff stepped away from the door, letting Kasey inside, “It’s not what you think. It’s not what any of us thought. It’s much worse.”

Kasey’s eyes went wide, “Worse?! How does it get worse?!”

Junior looked up from his perch on the couch, “It was a bait and switch. Carl’s as innocent as a lamb. And alive. Lucky for him you an’ Jimmie didn’t find him.”

Kasey opened his mouth and then closed it again. He was right, that was so much worse. Not only could they have axed Carl without reason, but it meant that someone else was behind the hit on the speakeasy and the lies about Carl. That kind of double-cross wouldn’t be taken lightly, not by Carl and not by the boss. Without a word, they all knew exactly who had done it. The same person that had been missing from the room most of the day. Kasey found a small sense of satisfaction in the fact that he’d never liked him anyway.

He tried to keep the shock out of his tone, “He couldn’t think the Boss is that big of a chump, that he’d fall for it.”

Junior laughed a little, but it was humorless, “He did, didn’t he? Jimmie had his assignment.”

Kasey looked around the room as the gravity of what they almost did sunk in. He was searching for one particular person, for some reassurance. Scattered around the room were a few members of the crew, but the only drivers besides himself were Jeff and Junior. Other than when they were on a run, he couldn’t think of a time they weren’t around. But Jimmie wasn’t there, which meant he was probably up with the Boss. He didn’t see Carl either. Was he getting an apology? It wasn’t likely. Being grateful that he wasn’t dead was enough of a reward.

The door to the Boss’s office slammed open and ever eye snapped up to it. Jimmie was the first one to step out, not making eye contact with anyone but Junior as he made his way downstairs and to his spot. Carl followed soon after, closing the door behind him. His cheeks flushed red and his suit jacket over his arm. He looked like exactly what he was, a man that had been a hair’s breadth away from death and was now so lightheaded with life that he could hardly keep his feet on the ground.

When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he nodded to Jeff, “I am going to see my lady, since I understand some nasty rumors may have made their way to her.” He didn’t look to Junior but nearly everyone else in the room did.

Jeff chuckled a little, “I’m sure she didn’t believe a word of it.”

Carl returned his smile, but there was no humor in his eyes, “I am sure. When I return, I expect there will be a run for me?” Jeff nodded and Carl walked past him, towards the door. He paused beside the couch Kasey was sitting on, looking down at him, “Learn your lesson, kid. Trust no one.”

Kasey frowned, but nodded. He knew that much already, but this put it all blindingly into perspective. The idea that they’d had a mole in their organization this whole time was unthinkable, but that this mole would not only steal from the Boss but would lie right to his face. Not only lie, but a lie that he knew would cause an innocent man’s death.

“What did he get out of it?” Kasey asked, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

Carl laughed, “You’re looking for logic in a petty man, Kahne. You won’t find any. Almost two G and a Lincoln. Now ask me what he’s going to lose.”

Kasey knew the answer to that question, but Carl deserved to be able to make his speeches the way he wanted to, “What is going to lose?”

“His life.”

Kasey was about to reply when the Boss’ door banged open and he stepped out onto the balcony. His face was red and if steam could have been coming from his ears, it would have been. “Ten Gs for his head!” He boomed. Then he turned on his heels and stomped back into his office, slamming the door closed.

All eyes slowly turned to Jimmie. Each of the men in that room wanted the dough, but they knew that there was only one man good enough to bring down the crafty double-crosser and live to tell the tale. Jimmie smiled slowly, which was unnerving to see, since the man rarely showed any kind of emotion, least of all a happy one. He sat up a little straighter and locked eyes with Junior. The warehouse had never been so silent with so many people in it.

Finally Junior broke the silence, still looking directly at Jimmie, “I’ll drive.” He sounded almost gleeful at the idea.

Jimmie shook his head, “The kid’ll be my wheelman.”

Junior’s eyes snapped over to Kasey who sat up a little straighter too. “Why?!” Junior barked

Kasey had been thinking that same question but he didn’t have the nerve to ask it. The idea of driving for Jimmie was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He didn’t want to learn to do what Jimmie did, but he knew he could learn a lot from him. And at least this time, if he had to, he could help Jimmie complete the job. He had no qualms shooting that chump.

Jimmie smiled slowly, “He doesn’t distract me.” He stood up, “Ready to go, kid?”

Kasey glanced at Junior without thinking about it. The last thing he needed to do was make enemies in the organization. Junior nodded slightly and opened up the late edition newspaper that had been sitting folded beside him, trying to show off how little he cared about the whole thing. Kasey knew full well that Junior was not happy about it, but at the same time, he’d much rather deal with Junior’s slight irritation than what would happen if he turned down Jimmie.

Kasey stood up, “I’m ready. Where are we going?”

Jimmie was already at the door before he turned to look back at Kasey. He narrowed his eyes, studying the kid in a way that made him instantly uncomfortable. There was always something happening behind Jimmie’s eyes, something that most men couldn’t or didn’t want to be able to understand, Kasey least of all. It made him uncomfortable. Having no idea what to do under that gaze, Kasey just stopped walking and waited for an answer.

At long last, he spoke, “To your car.”

Kasey learned quickly over the course of the evening that it was better if he didn’t ask any questions. Jimmie first ordered him to drive around the neighborhood that their boss’ warehouse sat in, for nearly an hour, occasionally telling him to turn right or left, but offering no more information than that. They didn’t seem to have a goal, but Kasey didn’t press for more, simply turned where ordered, grateful that Jimmie seemed to favor left turns over right.  

The sun had long since set and the dim headlights forced Kasey to drive slower than he wanted to, but he never once suggested to Jimmie that they return to the headquarters. Jimmie would tell him when it was time to go back. After the first hour had passed, Jimmie stopped offering directions so Kasey took every other left turn and just kept driving. It was well into the second hour before Jimmie spoke again.

“How much would it take for you?” He asked.

Kasey furrowed his brow, glancing at Jimmie for a second before putting his eyes back on the road, “For me what?”

Jimmie chuckled a little at the kid’s naivete, “For you to turn. How much would you have to be offered?”

“I wouldn’t.” Kasey answered quickly. He didn’t think it was a test, it was too obvious, but just in case it was, he didn’t want the hired killer to think he would turn on the man that frequently hired him, while they were out on a job to kill someone that had done exactly that.

“Yes, you would. Everyone would for the right price.” Jimmie didn’t sound like he was testing him, he sounded honestly curious. Which made Kasey all the more suspicious.

“You’re asking me what the price is on my own life. I don’t have one. I don’t want to die.” Kasey insisted.

Jimmie didn’t reply, so Kasey let the silence settle over the car as they continued to drive. After a few minutes, Jimmie started giving directions again and Kasey quickly realized they were heading for the speakeasy that Kyle had claimed was hit. It dawned on him only then that Jimmie had been wasting time until it was after dark and the usual clientele would be in the place.

Eventually he indicated that Kasey should park in the street directly in front of the place. His car wasn’t as obviously recognizable as if they’d come in one of the boss’ fleet, which he realized was part of Jimmie’s plan too. Where Kasey had first thought they were just wandering around, he now realized Jimmie had made a plan before they’d even left the warehouse. It was the last time he’d underestimate the hitman.

By the time Kasey walked around the car, Jimmie was already out and staring at what looked for all intents and purposes to be an abandoned storefront. If he was trying to keep the speakeasy a secret, he was doing a terrible job of it. Though the fact he’d ordered Kasey to park in front was enough of a reason that what he was doing had nothing with secrecy. He had left his jacket unbuttoned meaning that his piece was more than visible as he moved and Kasey caught himself wondering how many bodies that gun had on it. He assumed he didn’t want to know.

“You packin’ a violin in that boiler?” Jimmie asked, not taking his eyes off the building.

Kasey paused before he answered. Of course his car was fully stocked, he used it for small runs that didn’t require him taking the Lincoln, but something in him made him hesitate to admit that to Jimmie. Using his personal iron was one thing, but a Tommy was meant to spray a room where you didn’t care what happened to anyone inside. And Kasey had a hard time not caring about anyone at all. But in the end, you don’t lie to a hitman. “Yeah, I am.”

“Get it.” He ordered.

Obediently, Kasey opened the rear hatch of his car and removed the two-handed Tommy gun. He wasn’t a hatchet man, he felt foolish holding the large intimidating weapon. He knew how to use it, but that didn’t mean he could if he was ordered to. He checked it over, briefly, the situation would only be worse if he tried to use it and it jammed.

Jimmie shook his head, “I don’t care if it’s loaded, you won’t be usin’ it.” He turned away from Kasey, allowing him to look relieved without being caught doing so.

There was nothing remarkable about the alleyway between the abandoned storefront and the bakery beside it, except that it was one of the most frequently traveled paths in the neighborhood. There were two metal trash bins beside the bakery’s side door and the smell of baking bread filled the air even if it was late and the bakery should have been closed. Kasey didn’t stop to wonder why there would be someone baking at this hour, his focus was on the metal door on the opposite wall. This one had no trash bins to indicate use, in fact the rust covering the entire left half gave the impression of just the opposite.

Jimmie stepped up to the door and knocked heavily. He stared at the door expectantly. The name ‘speakeasy’ came from the expression ‘knock once and speak easy’, an old fashioned way to be let into a secret place. But Jimmie didn’t say a word. Even so, the door swung open just enough that he could slip in. But instead of doing that, as most people would, Jimmie grabbed the edge of the door and yanked it open hard, spilling bright light into the alleyway. A man started to yell, but the sound died in his throat at the sight of the man that had so rudely pulled the door from his hands.

“Who’s in charge here?” Jimmie asked, casually, as if he were inquiring about the weather.

“Uh….” Was the man’s articulate reply. His eyes moved between Jimmie and the gun Kasey was holding. He clearly wasn’t sure which one he should be more afraid of.

“I’m pretty sure them man asked you a question.” Kasey let a smirk rest easily on his lips, he was enjoying the fear the man openly displayed. Even more so, he enjoyed the approving look Jimmie gave him.

“Not me. That’s all I know.” He tried to sound like that was the truth, even if each of them knew it was a lie.

Jimmie shook his head and brushed past him as if he had just decided this man was too beneath him even to shoot. “Follow me, Kahne.”

Kasey obediently did so, keeping his focus on the back of Jimmie rather than all the stares they were getting from the entire bar that had stopped short mid-revelry to stare at the sudden intrusion. He was finding the more they stared, the more he liked it. They were actually afraid of him and it didn’t matter if he would shoot them or not, they worried he would and that was enough. Kasey smiled slowly and noticed that two women stepped backwards away from him when he did so, as if that made him even more frightening.

Jimmie stopped outside a closed wooden door. It didn’t matter if it was locked or not, the door was so thin that a sharp kick near the knob would snap it open either way. Kasey didn’t make a move to open it, but felt a sense of confidence in the fact that he knew he could if he was asked to. Jimmie knocked on the door and Kasey stood slightly to his left to make sure that whomever opened the door would see them both. The door opened slowly and Kasey nearly dropped his gun.

Kyle stepped out into the bar, two glasses of whiskey in his hands, “I knew you’d come. Drink?”


	4. Chapter 4

Kasey did all he could not to drop his Tommy gun. It was one thing to suspect someone, but it was something else to see him standing there in front of you, smirking like an idiot, offering them cheap booze like they were friends sitting down for a chat. And in the middle of a speakeasy that he had just told them all had been hit hard. The music and clinking glasses from behind them made it more than clear that every single word he’d spoken had been a lie.

It took Kasey a moment to regain his senses enough to realize that Jimmie had taken the glass from Kyle’s hand and had walked into the backroom. Kasey ignored the second glass but followed after him, tightening the grip on the gun in his hands.

“Kahne, that kinda heater ain’t gonna be necessary here,” Kyle assured him.

Kasey didn’t lower his gun. “Never can be sure when you’re dealing with snakes.” He heard Jimmie chuckle from where he’d taken a seat on a leather couch. The sound was almost as unnerving as their situation. The hitman never laughed.

“He has a point, Busch. Whose idea was it to water the drinks in this joint now? Mr H never allowed that.” He put his glass on the coffee table.

“This joint is under new management now.” Kyle sat down in the chair across from Jimmie, casually crossing his legs and sipping on the glass that Kasey had refused.

“I knew Gibbs was a crooked hood, but I didn’t think even he’d stoop so low as to water the whiskey.” Jimmie leaned back against the cushions on the couch, as if he was just shooting the breeze with an old friend.

The whole thing made Kasey even more uneasy. He kept his position standing between the couch and the chair, holding his Tommy gun firmly. He knew he wouldn’t be the one to shoot Busch, but he wasn’t about to relax around him now that he had proven himself to be the dirty double-crosser he had always thought he was. Well, he hadn’t thought he was this bad, but he had known something was nutsy about him.

“Who said I’m workin’ for Gibbs?” Kyle’s voice was a little too casual to be casual.

“You ain’t independant. You don’t have the firepower or the cash to get the inventory. You know Mr H is going to send a raid on this place as soon as he hears back from us. What’s the point?” Jimmie seemed genuinely interested in the answer.

Kyle thought for a moment, “The thrill of it.”

“Bushwa.”

Kyle laughed a little, “Okay, my new boss offered more moolah than I could turn down.”

Kasey couldn’t help himself, “How much is your life worth?”

Kyle looked over to him, frowning, “I don’t intend to meet my maker yet.”

“You know you’re not walking away from this, Busch. Why do it?” Jimmie asked again.

“I banked on you getting Edwards before he got to the boss. You’re losing your touch, Johnson. Back in the day, you woulda had him in two hours and I’d be livin’ the life of Riley.”

“That’s why you fail at everything you do. You don’t understand men. You barely make it as a backwoods ‘shine runner, but you would never make it as a hitter. It’s not about finding the target and pulling the trigger. It’s about getting in their head and figuring out why they want to die before you help them to it. I got in Edwards’ head and found out he didn’t want to die. Now I’m in yours.” His dark eyes met Kyle’s and the temperature of the room dropped ten degrees.

“I don’t wanna die.” Kyle tried to sound confident but he had seen something in Jimmie’s eyes that broke him. “I didn’t do nothin’ so bad that you’ve gotta shoot me.”

“Mr H put a price on your head so big, you won’t be able to buy a newspaper without feeling a bullet whiz by your ear. You think Gibbs is going to protect you? Even he ain’t stupid enough to cross Mr H over a nothing like you. I can make it quick or we can play this the hard way.”

Kyle looked between Jimmie and Kasey and let out a slow breath. “How ‘bout if Kahne waits outside for you?” Kasey had a feeling Kyle wanted to beg for his life and even in a moment like this, he had so much pride he couldn’t do it with an audience. He looked to Jimmie for an answer.

The corners of the hitman’s lips curled into a little smile, “Kahne, wait for me at the car.” He withdrew the revolver from his holster, “This won’t take long.” He never for a second thought that Kyle was trying to even the odds, Jimmie knew that Kyle didn't have the stomach to pull the trigger. He wasn't afraid.

By the time Kasey had gotten the engine of his Chevrolet to turn over, Jimmie was walking out the side door of the speakeasy, replacing his revolver in it’s holster. He hadn’t given Kyle much chance to talk. Sure his engine had stalled from the cold start, but he’d only been alone with him for ten minutes, maybe less.

“Is the job done?” Kasey asked as they pulled onto the road.

Jimmie didn’t reply for a long moment. “Five thousand dollars. You asked him what his life was worth, turns out Gibbs offered him five thousand dollars and a Lincoln.”

“I don’t get it. He can't spend it if he's knockin' on the pearly gates.”

Jimmie snorted, "Not the gates he's knockin' on. But think 'bout it, Kahne. What does Mr H offer you to risk your life every time you take a run?"

Kasey thought for a moment. He wasn't a rumrunner for the money. There wasn't enough to risk what he risked. He had never thought about why he was doing it. "I don't do it for the money. I think.... I think I do it because the law is wrong. They shouldn't oughta be able to tell us what we can drink. Or maybe because people deserve to be happy and booze makes 'em happy."

Jimmie looked at him. "Y'know, Kahne, I actually believe you."

Kasey didn't reply, but let a light smile played across his lips. 

Jimmie turned his attention to the road, "Head back to the 'house. I've got a heavy bounty to collect."


End file.
